


Love Poem

by GoodJanet



Category: Philadelphia Story (1940)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Cigarettes, Erotic Poetry, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before Tracy is to be married, Mike asks Dexter to recite some love poetry to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Poem

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this amusing tumblr post: http://supremecarlos.co.uk/post/127372714707/i-learned-a-really-romantic-spanish-poem-today

Dexter kisses him hard on the mouth until Mike feels as if he would faint from lack of air. He turns his head to the side while Dexter crowds him up against the ivy-covered back wall of the house. The brick was rough and solid at his back. It almost felt as though it were a living thing that would wake if he bumped it too harshly. But the house (and the people it contained) slumbered on, unaware of the fact that Mike was awake and aroused and that Dexter was warm and willing.

“This was one outcome I wasn't betting on,” Dexter murmurs against his lips.

“Well, I didn’t exactly think I'd go for you either.”

Dexter shifts his hips deliberately, and Mike gasps. Against the rules of common decency, Dexter trails his lips down Mike's neck and bites him. He had a sudden desire to give Mike something to remember him by. Something secret that he will have to hide from Liz and Tracy tomorrow. Mike hisses in pain, so Dexter quickly laves the mark with his tongue to show that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“You’re too vicious with me, C.K. Dexter Haven. You deny me my booze, you punch me in the eye, and you bite me. Don’t you know anything about romance? Can’t you recite a love poem and sweep me off my feet with that rich, velvet voice of yours?”

Dexter laughs. He lets his fingers trail over Mike's lips suggestively before addressing Mike's accusations.

“Love poetry? I don’t know any of the classics that you’re probably thinking of. I'm no scholar.”

“Any love poem then. Something that'll make me feel warm all over. Something that will make resisting seem like a foolish idea.”

“You certainly have some fanciful ideas, darling. Me recite love poetry?" He tsks. "I only know one, and it's quite filthy. A Spanish sailor told it to me.”

Dexter is already blushing. Mike can tell, even in the moonlight. It makes him want to hear it even more than he did before.

"Come on, C.K. Dexter Haven. Don't be shy."

Dexter hooks his thumbs through the belt loops of Mike's robe and kisses him soundly. He lets his tongue probe inside Mike's warm mouth. His plush lips give in to his assault willingly. He pulls away then and recites, a little brokenly:

“ _Quiero follar contigo toda la noche. Quiero que grites y que te duela mucho. Quiero que sientas mi pene adentro de tu ano bien duro. Quiero que te ahogues con mi pene. Tu cuerpo va a quedar blanco con todo mi esperma. Quiero sentir tu lengua en mi pene y mis bolas. Quiero que sufras como un esclavo en la cama y no puedas escapar_.”

Mike catches a few words in there, like “white” and “escape,” but the entire context is lost on him. In the moonlight, he can see Dexter's cheeks are still aflame as he pants softly against his ear and neck. He can feel Dexter press rock hard up against his hip.

“And what exactly does that mean in English?”

Rather than answer, Dexter kisses him again, and Mike melts into it. Mike's robe falls off his bony shoulders, leaving him in nothing but his shorts. He shivers as the night air and the chilly brick of the house hits his bare skin. He envies Dexter, who is still dressed in his semi-formal wear. He'd like to continue undressing himself and Dexter, but the “professor” in him makes him chime back in.

“Wait a second. That’s just not fair, you know. You have the upper hand here, and it’s only fair that you tell me what it means before we go any further.”

Dexter shoots him a look. He braces a hand by Mike's ear, the other one trailing down, down, down his chest.

“Alright, you naughty boy. I’ll tell you since you want to know so badly.”

Mike leans in to hear better, despite there being no one else around. He crowds himself up against Mike while he recites the rough English translation of the bawdy poem the Spanish sailor once told him:

“I want to fuck you all night," Dexter breathes. The 'f' sound rolling off his tongue and into his ear, breaking his arms out in goosebumps. Mike swallows hard as Dexter continues. "I want you to scream as I hurt you. I want you to feel my hard cock inside you. I want you to choke on my length."

Whether consciously or not, Dexter thrusts idly against his hip, and Mike thinks he might combust from the lust pouring off of him like rivers. He images Dexter's member inside his rear and in his mouth. Filling him to bursting. Dexter slips a hand into Mike's shorts and finishes off him and the poem.

"Your body will be white with all of my semen. I want to feel your tongue on my hardness. I want you to suffer as a slave in my bed, from which you cannot escape.”

Mikes exhales shakily while Dexter keeps stroking him with quick little jerks that Mike craves.

“And--and that's what you want from me?”

Dexter lovingly tucks an errant strand of Mike’s hair back into place. There is a pregnant pause where Dexter doesn't answer, merely continues jerking his fist until Mike spills over it. Mike is fairly vocal, so Dexter joins their mouths to keep him from being heard. When he's done, he shivers in a way that has nothing to do with the chill.

“Are you cold, Mike? Perhaps we should go inside.”

Dexter lets go of his slowly softening cock and steps away to light a cigarette. He also pulls a delicate handkerchief from his pocket and wipes it clean before stuffing the filthy fabric back into his pocket.

“I think I need one of those first,” Mike says.

Their conversation eventually runs out, as do their cigarettes.

“I’m going to turn in. You’re still welcome to join me, Mike.”

“Are you going to choke me and hurt me and make me your slave?”

Dexter laughs. "I thought we might simply share a bed and take care of each other like they do in posh boarding schools.”

Mike thinks about it for a moment, taking a moment to wonder about Dexter's naughty school days.

“If I go with you, will you warm me up a hot water bottle?”

“Of course, my dear. Now come along to bed. It’s nearly morning, and we’ve a busy day tomorrow.”


End file.
